


Booze and Love Bites

by SocialButtercup



Category: Satyr Fraternity
Genre: Barebacking, Begging, Body Worship, Breeding, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Cock Worship, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Fauns & Satyrs, Fraternities & Sororities, Furry, Gags, Gift Giving, Growth, House Party, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Masturbation in Shower, Muscles, Oral Knotting, Original Character(s), Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, References to Knotting, Rimming, Scent Marking, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22736593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialButtercup/pseuds/SocialButtercup
Summary: Another pledge-initiation approaches for the Satyr Frat, and Andreas has been busy helping his frat-brothers prepare; Home-brewing drinks for the night, gathering supplies, coaching the new pledges on what is to come.Far too busy, it seems, to spend any time with his werewolf lover, Damon. They've been apart for the week of preparation, but Damon made sure to mark the date.Satyr Booze is stashed away, and the pair have plans to shut their door and spend some quality time together, enjoying themselves and the very effective growth properties of the brews that give the goat-men campus-wide notoriety and a constant place on the rumour-mill.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Booze and Love Bites

**Author's Note:**

> By Growing Bro - Account consistently NSFW  
> (https://twitter.com/GrowingBro)
> 
> With credit to my friend, Dylan for the initial spark. - Account contains some NSFW.  
> All around great artist, give him a follow!  
> (https://twitter.com/Diicedd)

“ **Party tonight D, usual time, remember? Celebrating our new pledges! Should come. Miss you. They maybe already started, there’s a few dudes that might work for the frat. Place smells like booze and I’d rather things smell like you! Got a keg stashed for us, I’ll grab it soon! No rye this time, I made it myself, I promise! Please <3”**

Damon sighed, furrowing his brow, he was still a little hesitant about the party, but he definitely wanted to see Andreas. Apparently his boyfriend figured he’d forget one of the biggest booze-fests on the Satyr Frat calendar, despite the fact the werewolf was almost with the rest of Dre’s goat friends as often as he stayed with his own Pack. He’d had the calendar marked weeks in advance, little doodled flowers in the corners of the dated square. “DUMB GOAT PARTY” scribbled down and underlined copiously.

Besides, when his boyfriend made it a constant talking point about how he needed to _“Just think about how big we’re gonna get!”_ and _“I promise I made sure to set an extra keg up for us this year, no rye. Used other grains instead, pup!”_ with suggestive winks or cocky flexing, it made it very hard to forget. Sure, they could easily drink together whenever they wanted but that wasn’t the point, and real Satyr Booze took time to make, and was normally reserved for special occasions, considering the effects and hangover. But sometimes Damon got lucky, and Andreas could brew something ahead of time, or drop off a few cans to be stockpiled away. It seemed tonight would be one of those times, and Damon grinned knowing just how wild they both got during times like this. He took a moment to think of a reply and began typing.

“ **How could I forget, dude!? On my way. Whole keg, huh? Hope you’re ready and looking pretty for me, big guy. Don’t go through too much before I get there, you know I like being there for it. Socialise while you can, though, you’re mine tonight, goat-boy. See you soon. Missed you, too.”**

Damon ran his hand through his hair, exhaling. His tail wagged absentmindedly. He knew he had to shower and get ready, and he wanted it done fast. He needed to see Andreas. His head was already filled with thoughts of pinning the large satyr to a wall and ravaging him, leaving him only an arm free to continue to drink and make more mass for him to explore with his tongue. At this stage it had been a week since he last saw the bulky satyr; trained with him; touched him, owned him, and gave himself freely in much the same way. Andreas was busy brewing booze and getting to know the few he would eventually call his new brothers in the Satyr Frat, making sure everything was prepared; it was his duty, and the duty of his satyr brethren as well, after all.

Smirking, he stripped his tank as he entered his bathroom. He bounced his pecs at the mirror, chuckling. “ _Still nowhere near as big as Dre’s, but the effort is working. Besides, you can actually see more definition in the rest of me, unlike that bulky stud...”_ he thought. The werewolf ran his hands down his torso, through the patch of fur on his chest that began with his pecs, extended over his abs, and down further still, as he began undoing his fly. He shucked his pants and his underwear came next. The grey boxer briefs were balled up in his hand and swiped under each arm. “ _Been too long since I saw him last. Whole place is gonna reek of booze, and **others**. Gonna fix that. Should smell like me, always.” _The underwear was tossed to the side, separate to the rest of his clothes, and he flashed the handsome wolf-man in the mirror a grin full of teeth, popping a bicep up next to his buzzed head.

Opening the shower door and reaching for the hot water handle, Damon twisted. He waited a second as steam filled the room before adjusting with cold water. When he was confident he wouldn’t burn himself, he stepped in, shuddering as the water hit his skin and the tufts of fur that ran over his physique. His body flushed with the heat, and steam slowly filled his vision. He set to work scrubbing himself, hands travelling over his broad muscles.

“Be much better if he was here…” Damon grunted, running his hands over his buzzed head before trying his best to reach his entire back with freshly applied shower gel. He never used to have problems before his initiation, but since he joined the frat and became Pack he gained far too many hard-to-reach areas. Granted, he loved the new size, and everything else that came with being with his Pack-Brothers. He just wished he had another set of hands to help him out; preferably hairy and brimming with power.

Damon’s hands eventually reached his lower half, having given up on awkwardly trying to get all over his back. His hands coasted down, through a thick forest of pubic hair, over his thickening cock and pendulous, shaggy balls. Another benefit of the frat, not that he was anything to scoff at beforehand. He was thick, and he knew it, taking pride in a perverse way, knowing he was probably packing more than almost any of the new pledges on campus, regardless of frat, even before he turned. Now though? Now he knew the pledges would stare unashamedly if he bothered to show off, as they did at all frat-members, his own Pack-Brothers included.

Most ogled the satyr residents the most for their immense, knee-length, uncut monsters, or the orcs for their manhood that could probably dwarf anyone’s, girth-wise. But the werewolves were generally almost as thick as the orcs, and they had extra fun when they got worked up, that was for sure. The same could be said in a similar sense for the minotaurs and how they compared well to the satyrs, but had the addition of a flare, at the expense of foreskin and remnants of their old, human anatomy.

Damon’s mind flashed back to when his Pack-Brothers first told him about most of the changes shortly after his initiation, laughing at the concept of a knot. He couldn’t see it at the time, after all, and wasn’t sure if all the frats relished in pranks and hazing like the satyrs did. Turned out, the part about changes and knots was _very_ true, and his discovery of that was intense. Almost as intense as the first time he tried Satyr Booze, or got to taste Andreas’ bulky frame.

Damon blinked a few times, panting a little, as memories of himself in his room flooded his head. Door locked, in bed, face down, dick in hand, panting hard _._

_**Rut. Fuck. Breed. Grind. Find something to knot. Destroy something. Own it. Claim it.** _

Eventually he’d settled for laying down entirely, grinding himself into his mattress, biting his pillow to stifle the growls, full body spasms coming on as the base of his dick thickened beyond what he even thought possible, overcoming even the girth of his cock-head when he flexed it and forced it to flare outwards, showing off for himself in a cocky display of self-worship he would eventually become all too familiar with. He tentatively grabbed it as he pulled himself back up onto his knees, and his hand tore away immediately. It was more sensitive than he thought possible, and the pleasure overwhelmed him, even more than when he would grip the bare head as his foreskin retracted.

With a much gentler grasp, he adjusted and re-gripped, a single hand now unable to wrap around, where before he could just _barely_ contain his cock with one hand, if he didn’t mind hand-aches. His hips bucked instinctively, and a large stream of precum shot far from his engorged cock, wetting his mattress before the remainder began running down the underside of his cock and dripping off his tight balls or fingers, pooling under him, slicking his cock further.

“Fuck… H-Holy **shit** , du- _hude_! _Ah_!” he growled, low in his throat, as he finally stroked up over the still-thickening knot onto the rest of his cock, slicking his entire shaft with the clear pre, his foreskin riding over the ridge of his engorged cockhead tantalisingly, making his brain beg for more.

_First stroke, second stroke, third stroke. Rhythmic, instinctual, innate._

Instinct took over and he couldn’t contain his whimpering moans, nor his growling. He collapsed forward, spinning his pillow length-ways, biting the top, hard, and rutting and grinding furiously against the rest as his arms wrapped around the back, pulling it tightly against him, as his hips snapped and flowed. He felt his whole body flush, his nails lengthening slightly, his face burning red. His whole body thrummed with power, with _want_. His veins and muscles felt like they were on fire, and every part of him felt so… _full_. He’d never experienced anything quite close to this, not even the best pumps at the gym, prior to his pledging or the few he had managed to make time for after. His hips ground into the pillow, and his claws gripped tighter, his slick cock sliding along the length of the pillow, knot throbbing and foreskin pulled back, the head of his cock exposed and so sensitive he wondered if he’d start sobbing from the sensation, ridge riding the pillow just enough to start to become overstimulating.

_**Tear it open, claim it, breed it, fuck it. Mine, mine, mine…** _

The sound of the pillowcase tearing broke through the room, atop his panting, low growls, and the sound of his bed-springs. He didn’t care, his mind was singing and snarling all at once.

He gripped tighter, he felt the pillow rupturing entirely and he roared as his arms grew bulkier still, his thighs rippled, thickening as he bucked harder, and his cock grew fatter still. Not just the throbbing knot this time, but the whole member. His head flared, filled to bursting, a reddish-purple that looked _furious_. He was leaking copiously now. The pillow was doused in saliva, and pre, and sweat; he gripped it harder with his teeth in an effort to stifle the noises his self-worship was tearing out of him. His growls got louder and half formed words tumbled from his mouth and got caught in the fabric; muttered cursing and words of ownership; he couldn’t think well enough to place who they were for.

Musk and sweat burned his nostrils, as he smelt himself, and it simply spurred him on. He found himself tugging at the pillowcase with his teeth, rending it, barely aware of his actions. He tore it free, exposing the pillow itself, torn and limp in his arms. He spat the casing to the side and groaned, deep in his throat, rumbling with pride. With a final buck of his hips he yelled out, all but piercing his mattress with the power behind his thrusts, before elongating the noise into a guttural howling. The frat could overhear for all he cared. Let them listen, Let them know. Copious floods of semen exploded outwards from his cock; coating himself slick, his stomach, his bed, what remained of the pillow, and he _relished_ in it, his mind was thrumming and singing his own praises, as the seed found purchase where it fell and flowed.

_**He had claimed. He had done good. He felt pride.** _

Damon fell forward, panting, breath a heavy heaving sensation as though he was drowning in the afterglow. His body was overloaded, overstimulated from the new sensations. He didn’t want to move a muscle, could barely begin to try. Instead, he weakly humped against the bed a final few times, and exhaled loudly. He could definitely get used to this, if this was to be his new norm.

Damon shuddered, his wet skin feeling electrified, remembering the first time he discovered his knot, and he wanted nothing else than to run to Andreas, to pin him down and claim him; destroy him in front of the entire party if he had to, tear noises out of his goat that were for _his_ ears _only,_ party and booze be damned. Instead, his cock rose to full mast at the thoughts and memories, and he grunted.

“ _No time. Not now._ ” he thought, ignoring the very insistent part of his brain that wanted a quick rut before he left. Instead he lathered his legs, the dense hair and fur tufts causing a soapy foam he never would have managed prior to Pack life. Certainly saved on shower gel usage. He always felt pride in his legs, even before his wolfish streak thickened them impossibly further.

Where most men tended for curls and arms brimming with power, wanting to show off, Damon knew his best asset had been his lower half for a long time. They responded best to growth, so he learnt not to fight it and instead embraced the power that thrummed in his lower half, even if his upper body looked a little smaller as a result. He knew, too, that Andreas loved seeing his legs up, as he let the satyr have his way with him, obeying as best he could;

“ _Don’t move, love. **Good** pup, shhh, bro...”_

Damon figured it best to stop that train of thought or he’d never get to his love, to see how the party would affect him, so he rinsed himself off, and shut the shower off, stepping onto the cold tiles. He shivered slightly, grabbing out at a towel and briskly drying himself. He was getting impatient, and his cock was still frustratingly hard. That would have to wait; he was sure he could just shove it into his pants and get going, not like the campus never had guys running around with their dick shoved down alongside their legs, and at least then Dre would know he was looking to get right to the point, even if it had to be announced to everyone; new pledges included.

He grabbed his old clothes in one hand, and the discarded underwear in the other, moving back to his room. The clothes were tossed into a basket with the rest, and the underwear he pulled back on, after confirming they smelt like him. He’d wear them for now, but they’d be useful later if his goat got too loud, and needed to be quieter. He quickly gathered clothes; grey V-neck, blue jeans, and threw a black denim jacket over the top; even if the satyr’s didn’t love the painted goat skull on the back.

Dre preferred him commando, and he was all too happy to show off usually, but he knew the satyr would like what he had in mind more. With that, he gathered his things, and sent another message to Dre as he went forth into the cold night air.

**“On my way, dude. Better not be too far ahead of me.”**

“CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” Satyr voices chanted, as a group of their new pledges worked their way through the large jugs in front of them. The first to finish was a tall brown-haired man. His body was slim considering his height, but quite toned, and the satyrs knew he’d bulk up well as the night went on; there was _power_ there, innate and ready to be tapped. He coughed, as a beefy satyr with a backwards cap grabbed his arm and tore it upwards, cheering that turned to roaring bleats.

“What did I say!? I said ‘Yo, yo, the scruffy one, dudes. He’s gonna **win** , man! He _wants_ that shit, dude, look at his _eyes!_ ’, and look what happened! _**Crushed**_ it, bro!” the Satyr yelled, as his frat-brothers cheered and applauded. The man blushed, grinning wildly, beer froth painting his beard, keeping his arm in the air before sheepishly lowering it. The satyr led him apart from the group of pledges as they finished their drinks to further cheering and congratulations.

“I told you, man! I saw that shit in your eyes, bro, you saw those drinks come out and I knew you were gonna down that as quick as you could. Awesome work!” the satyr beamed, all but yelling in the man’s ear.

“Thanks, man! Means a lot. Always wanted something like this, so when you guys announced stuff like this would be happening tonight, I knew I had to get in, no matter what work you guys had planned. I mean, the rumours and all, and you guys are all _so fucking big_ an-” the man replied, his voice betraying how excited he was, his eyes wide and speeding all over the massive satyr’s body, trying to take as much as he could and commit it to memory; sear it in deep.

“Ok, little guy. Take a breath, bro. I know we’re pretty huge, and you’re excited, but trust me, after tonight you’re gonna get how that feels, and it’ll wear off quick.” he explained straightfaced, before grinning and laughing.

“Kidding, bro. This _never_ gets old! Look at **this**!” the satyr replied, flexing his arm and winking, causing the other man to blush.

“You can touch it if you wanna! Might even get you to do more than that later, buddy...”

The man gulped and reached out his arm, feeling the immense density beneath and skin, feeling heat flush his body.

“F-Fuck, bro. Is it… always like that?” he asked, and the satyr beamed, nodding, wrapping his arm around his new friend’s neck.

“Anyway, dude, I’ve gotta run and check up on a bud of mine, OK? I’ll be back in a bit. Definitely wanna find you later. You seem like you’ll be fun. Ask for Jason if you can’t find me, bud. I really think you’ve got a lot of potential to fit in around here...” The smaller man’s eyes widened and he nodded, nervously.

“Sure, Jason. Uh… Yeah! I’ll see you then, then. I mean, uh-” The satyr chuckled to himself, slapping the man on the ass, ending with a firm squeeze, as he walked off. He wanted to check in on his friend, Andreas. Andy had been in his own head a bit lately, organising for pledge week and meeting everyone, and Jason figured it best to see how he was doing.

Jason made his way back through the wide, open, living area, peering into the vast kitchen. Satyrs and new pledges alike filled the combined space, drinks in hand; a few members of the other frats dotted here and there hovering near a counter covered in glasses. It wasn’t often orcs, werewolves, or minotaurs showed up to these satyr-specific events. But then the same could be said for satyrs attending other frat’s orientation events too. Usually just the relevant fraternity and their new, human recruits.

Jason was already too used to only seeing his frat brothers and the new pledges around, so he was happy for the new scenery, as it were, even if they only got an in by knowing members of the frat. None of them matched Andreas’ description though. No horns big enough or the right shape in the crowd; no cocky hollering of “ _Yo, no, no, nah, man! You got it all wrong! I’m the biggest, look at this shit, man!”_ accompanied by flexing. No keg stands yet, either. Just bottles and jugs for now. No, Andy definitely wasn’t down here anymore.

Jason _was_ liking how quickly the booze started flowing though, and knew he wanted to get back here and enjoy the action before the night ended. He might even find that new guy again, and show him why the entire campus jumps at the chance for Satyr booze. Might even bother to learn his _name_. Regardless, that would have to wait.

He kept going, towards one of the sets of stairs that led to the second floor, towards the bedrooms, as more Satyrs came down the hall, from the basement, carrying replacement kegs and all too keen on keeping the drunken revelry flowing.

Jason climbed the wooden stairs quickly, his hooves giving his ascent away to anyone at the top. He quickly moved a few doors in and located Andy’s room. He knocked quickly, before the door opened and a horned head peered out, bottle in hand, close to his lips.

“Jason, dude! What’s up, man? I’ll be down later, maybe. Just setting some stuff up for later.” Andy grinned, panting slightly, taking a sip.

“Y’okay, dude? I didn’t interrupt anything, right? Please tell me you’re just drinking and not jerking it right now, dude. _Please_.” Jason asked, squinting as he sniffed the air. Nope, all he could smell was booze. Not really like Andy to drink alone.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, no, I just moved one of the smaller kegs up here. The one I made for D. He sent me a text, gonna be here soon, and I figured we’d be up here _eventually_. Why, jealous you didn’t bust me?” Andreas chuckled, raising his eyebrows, as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall, taking a long, slow swig from the bottle as he leaned against the wall, shuddering. He was sweating, the _‘Horns Up'_ tank top he wore starting to darken.

“Heh. Nah, man. I’ll leave all that for your wolf-boy, trust me. He’d probably tear my dick off if I so much as stepped into the room when it smells like you; I found one of the new pledges downstairs, anyway. He seems pretty into all this, so far. Downed what we gave him much quicker than any of the other newbies down there, too. So I’m probably _set_ for the night, dude. You’re probably _real_ jealous, too; he’s a stud, bro!” Jason explained, eager to find the man again.

“D’s not _that_ bad, dude… But if you see him, send him up for me, yeah? Meant to be here by now, and I miss him. Pledge prep and all, it’s been a bit...” he continued, and Jason nodded.

“Sure, whatever bro, you just miss his massive wolf dick, we’ve all heard how y-” the satyr started, before Andy punched him in the chest, and flung his hand up, tearing the smaller Satyr’s hat off his head and throwing it to the stairs.

“ _Dude!_ Fine, I’ll send him up if I see him. But you know I’m right!” Jason giggled, grabbing his cap and dashing down the stairs again. Andreas rolled his eyes and stepped back into his room, shutting the door again, running a hand through his mohawk.

 _Maybe_ Jason had a point, and Damon was a little too much at times. But he _did_ miss Damon, and it wasn’t just because he enjoyed the things they did to each other. He took another swig, and his body grew warm; the door frame suddenly felt smaller in comparison.

Regardless, Andreas had setting up to finish, and now that he was alone and knew his love would be here shortly, he wanted to hurry and finish. The small keg was already in the room, and he was glad the most annoying part was done. Andreas only had a bottle or two of other stuff for himself, to break up the monotony of the beer in the keg, but it would do, for tonight at least. He didn’t have time to organise multiple brews, and he really just wanted the booze for the results tonight, if he was honest.

He figured he’d get a head start on his wolf, the first bottle now nearly empty, his body already feeling full and bigger than usual as his muscles rippled and flexed outwards, very slowly expanding. His balls churned in his pants, becoming more virile, and his cock hung heavy halfway down the length of one pant leg.

His room was dotted with potted plants, the little jars and pots adorning shelves, his desk, windowsill, and various other nooks and crannies. The colours and smells were a welcome refresher in the otherwise standardised room, the pale grey walls rarely doing much to make the place feel like home to Andreas.

A few small cacti, potted succulents, and his proudest in-dorm achievement; snapdragons. Nowadays they reminded him of Damon, if only for the fact that the werewolf had immediately commented on them when he first saw Dre’s room.

_“When I was a kid, I remember I used to see this tiny little patch of snapdragons near the fence of a house I passed every morning, and they were always so **bright** and I thought the name was so **cool** , dude! They make this place feel kinda homey...”_

Granted the man had immediately blushed and nervously avoided eye contact at admitting the place felt comfortable to him; they barely knew each other at the time, all things considered. But he didn’t mind. He _liked_ Damon, even if he was a little intense.

Snapdragons were gifted in a pot the next week, with care instructions and relevant equipment. Damon was fiercely protective of them to this day, and he tried his best. Poor man was horrified when they eventually withered and then bore their seed pods, the skull-like quality making him terrified he’d ruined his cherished gift and that they’d died off for good. But he learnt with time to care for them, and the plants had been through a few growth cycles by now, and the pair only grew closer as time passed, though Damon would deny that he often asked for help growing them.

_“Bro, you gave them to me. I don’t want ‘em to die off! They withered earlier and I think I **killed** em dude, what do I even **do** , bro!?”_

_“I left em like you said, dude, and they turned into these weird little shrunken skull things, are you **sure** this isn’t another Satyr prank!? If they’re all dried up and like… skull-y, how are they gonna **grow**!? Are you sure they’re seeds or whatever? They look **super** dead, man!”_

Andreas carefully positioned small candles around the room, taking the time to ensure they weren’t too close to the plants, lighting them as he went. This was _their_ space, and the rest of the party could stay out there, for all he cared. He knew Damon would like this.

He had a couple of long, empty bottles ready to fill from the keg, and the view out of his windows was decent; the room’s views taking on an interesting, almost ethereal quality as the sunset hit and eventually gave way to what was now a decent amount of moonlight, adding to the general air that there was definitely _something_ happening tonight, though not every pledge knew exactly what that was. They would learn, with time, as Andreas had. He just might not be as _present_ for it as he had been in the past. He had _plans,_ this time.

Andreas fiddled with the almost empty bottle in his hand. He knew Damon liked being around for the drinking, but the werewolf also never complained about showing up and being surprised at just how quickly the satyr could take to the effects of the booze. He downed what was left, and refilled it at the keg. His body had been tingling since before Jason came to chat with him, and he figured now was as good a time as any to speed things up a little.

He always adored the look on his love’s face when Damon opened the door, and ended up quite clearly having to look much further up to see Andreas than normal. His whole body felt buzzed, slightly flushed, and he relished in it, knowing it would only intensify as the night proceeded. He flexed for himself with a smirk, feeling his muscles ripple and engorge further under his clothes.

He liked taking things in, admiring himself, at all stages of the process. Before, during, after. Didn’t matter. He was a massive man, he knew that, even among the satyrs, and he only got bigger as he drank. His frame lent itself entirely to raw, brutish power, traditional aesthetics be damned.

He wasn’t like the werewolves; chiseled but solid, built for teamwork and easily admired in the traditional sense. Coated in hair but still close to their original nature before Pack.

He wasn’t like the orcs; wider than they were tall, with skill in their fingers unbecoming of their monolithic scale, and a drive to build and craft in all things; body, mind, and their various arts.

He wasn’t even truly close to the minotaurs, though the comparisons had been made between the two groups at times. Horned, rugged, furred, and more animalistic than any other fraternity.

But where the minotaurs tended to show off by way of vascularity and careful sculpting of their fuzz to show their best assets, the satyrs instead opted for pure mass, absolute strength, and the unadulterated embracing of the way their bodies developed thanks to their booze. Bulky, stout, and with stomachs most comparable to a turtle shell. Solid, like a tree, but with enough minor padding to show their lifestyle, and their indulgences.. Furred like the bull-men, but only in their lower halves. Made for an easier showtime, Andreas always thought, barring those that kept their dense thickets of chest hair, like himself.

Satyrs found their strength through their various brews. Harvested plants used to create, steep, and enhance various drinks; alcoholic or otherwise. The satyrs, as a fraternity, were best likened to a great forest, their thick, corded roots _desperate_ for whatever nourishment they could find, and harvest, and soak in; guzzling all the nourishment and using it for a singular purpose, to grow and block out the sun.

The parties and brewing were the natural conclusion of their desperation; better than _competing_ for the plants, the shared growth spurring them on further in a competitive way known only to them. There was _history_ there, though Andreas didn’t dwell on it.

Andreas was at peace with his choice of fraternity though, intense as it was. By the time his own initiation rolled around, he had been more than willing to join the satyrs for months, even if his initial knowledge of their lives was… limited. His eyes were always glued to their massive physiques on campus, desperate for their seemingly laid-back company, their charms and charisma, and their absolute ability to draw a crowd; flexing or not.

He continued to sip from the bottle and his own body’s heat became more apparent. He was _burning_ , and he was excited. He pulled his tank from his filling frame, almost a herculean task as he nearly outgrew the fabric. He gulped faster, working his way through the bottle. As it neared emptiness again he shoved the neck of the bottle further into his mouth, feeling almost desperate for more. It was often this way for him.

He flexed as he drank, once more finishing the bottle. He was getting _excited_. He knew he felt _heavier_. He recognised the feelings, and he embraced them all the same every single time. His hands instinctively ran over his body; up over his thick stomach, across his beefy pecs, and he flexed one bicep as he firmly grasped it with the other hand, the mound of muscle contracting and feeling impossibly engorged underneath his skin.

“ _Fuck yeah. Gonna get that wolf in here and shove his fuckin’ face against my skin. He’ll probably run his tongue all over me right away... Been too long. He’s gonna love getting to worship every new inch of me. Gonna be so fucking wildly huge for my pup, he’s not gonna know what to do...”_ the groaning, expanding satyr thought to himself.

He grunted, as he grabbed for his phone. He unbuttoned his pants, hoisted his still soft dick out from his pant leg, and well over the top of the glass bottle he was drinking from. He managed to eclipse it easily, doubling it’s length and easily as thick, even before the booze aided his size, or any blood helped him along. He snapped a picture from the side making sure to get his gargantuan furry balls in the shot; the only angle that could really make the bottle be seen clearly, small as it was in comparison, and sent it off to Damon.

“ **You better be downstairs, pup. No clue if Jason found you. Get up here, dude. Now. Starting without you and I’ll keep going and then you’ll be disappointed you missed the show, handsome. Besides, got a job for you and that fat knot, bro.”**

He flicked his ears as he refilled his bottle for a third time, and ran his hand over his cock, enjoying the heft of his manhood between his legs. His densely furred balls swung low and heavy underneath, and he knew they would be even more pendulous later. He grasped at them and gave them a tug. They felt _impossibly_ full, but he had learnt that was just a trait every satyr inherited. He’d asked nervously about it, when he first grew into them, and realised that most satyrs ended up with at least orange-sized balls, and they only got bigger with time and drink.

Andreas lazily slapped his dick against his stomach, feeling it very slowly come closer and closer to full mast, and closer and closer to his own pecs. The meaty thwacks filled the otherwise quiet room, and he loved knowing how absolutely hung he was.

He flexed his dick, making it bounce and slap against his chest, a thick trail of precum leaking out past his foreskin and slicking his chest, dampening the thicket of fur. He craned his head back and poured more beer into his mouth, wondering how big he’d be before Damon came up, as his body flushed even hotter, his cock throbbing and his precum pooling in his bunched foreskin, almost spilling out and down. He was tempted to crane his neck slightly and drink it.

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard footsteps very quickly ascending the stairs. Sounded like whoever was out there was excited, basically stumbling up the steps. Typical of Damon, so Andreas wasn’t surprised when the door flung open and just as quickly got slammed shut. The wolf was panting slightly, whether it was from excitement or the speed at which he ran into the room was yet to be established. His cock tented his pants and surged down his leg, like a smuggled oak branch.

“Fuck, dude… Got your message. I don’t even think you’ve gone through much by the look of you, but damn, handsome, you’re just so _b_ -” The wolf started before the satyr walked over to him, running his fingers over Damon’s mouth, setting down the bottle as he went.

“Shh, pup. Door locked, first. I know you missed me. Couldn’t wait.” the satyr whispered.

Damon fumbled as he turned around, tail wagging as he locked the door. He gasped as the large satyr spun him back around slowly, hands on Damon’s lower back. Damon started shaking as he nestled his face into the satyr’s enormous traps, breathing into his neck, his shirt growing damp as the satyr’s precum spilled out from the movement.

Damon whined and wrapped one leg around and behind the satyr’s own legs, pinning them together, the satyr’s lengthy cock trapped between the his bare chest and the werewolf’s wet shirt.

Dre’s arm brought the bottle back to his lips, as Damon buried his face in the goat-man’s hairy chest and huffed, his beard inches from the head of his goat’s leaking cock. He smelt good, _familiar_ ; lightly like booze and more deeply of the earth; oak trees, damp soil and florals, but the smell of precome and cock burned bright, overpowering.

Andreas’ actual scent, separate to his cock, smelt incredibly safe to Damon, and the wolf wanted to give him _everything_. He found his hips were grinding against the satyr’s legs as he focused on the man’s scent, and the satyr laughed.

“Needy, huh, pup? C’mere.” The satyr whispered lowly in the wolf’s ear. A kiss was planted on the wolf’s buzzed head, and met with a noise of contentment as the smaller man nuzzled the wolf’s chest, his beard openly rubbing the side of the satyr’s massive cock now.

“Do me a favour. Get these clothes off, or that ugly jacket you love so much is gonna end up ruined.” Andreas said, tapping the other man’s thigh to make him move, freeing his legs.

The wolf whined but complied. quickly stripped the jacket, throwing it haphazardly over a chair, and before he could start on the rest, the satyr’s mouth was on his, one hand on the back of his head and the other trailing down his wet shirt and over his still-clothed dick. His hips bucked again, and the satyr lightly grabbed at him and rubbed his clothed cock in response, smiling against his mouth.

The kiss was partially broken by Damon in an attempt to get his thoughts out, though the satyr just kept pressing his mouth back between words.

“Can’t Dre, y’need t’stop.” the wolf barely managed to get the sentence out, as he muttered and kept his hands gripped on his lover’s sides, not wanting any space between them despite the order and his own words.

Andreas simply moved his hands and pulled Damon’s own hands over the shirt, breaking the kiss proper for a moment.

“I’ll replace it. Just get it off, _now_.”

Damon’s hands curled over his shirt, digging his lengthened nails into his shirt as he pulled, the fabric splitting at the force. He shredded the front of the shirt through at each side, and quickly shucked the tattered, soaked fabric to the floor, barely having to move or lose the proximity to his goat, while still obeying.

The satyr slowly sunk to his knees at that, pressing his lips over Damon’s defined abs as he went. He got to the man’s navel and looked up at him. Damon shuddered and threaded his hand over his love’s head, coasting through his wavy, short brown mohawk before moving to the side of his head, gripping a horn softly. His other hand repeated the action. This spurred the satyr to stick his tongue out, and Damon dragged him up by the horns, feeling his love trailing back up over his abs and chest, before he dragged him up further until he was level with his face again.

“I didn’t say you could take your lips off mine, goat-boy.” he growled.

“ _Mm’kay, pup._ ” Andreas chuckled, kissing the man again. He felt Damon’s claws prickling on his back and groaned into the other man’s mouth as he was gripped harder. He wrapped his arms around his love, walking them backwards, before slowly letting Damon lower him onto his bed, and it creaked from the weight.

“Candles were a nice touch, love. Thank you.” Damon smiled. Dre’s room was nice; _homely_.

“Figured since it was gonna be just for us, I’d _try_ the sappy stuff, know you like it...” Andreas mumbled, pulling Damon back flush with his body, gripping him tightly on top of his own body, the satyr’s cock grinding between their chests, glazing their hairy pecs.

“Thanks for coming. I missed you a lot, dude… I love you, y’know that?” Andreas whispered against Damon’s ear, and his wolf shivered in response.

“’Course I do, ‘Dre. I love you, too; all of you. _Luckiest_ guy in this building. And besides, gonna be even more of you to love tonight, dude.” Damon smiled back, running his arms over his lover’s massive chest, relishing in the pure power it held, feathering his fingers over the densely hair-covered musculature just barely avoiding contact with the throbbing, leaky satyr dick. Andreas flexed his dick, more pre coating them both.

“Fuck, dude, _touch_ me. I need you so bad. Want your tongue all over me. My whole body’s _throbbing_ dude, jeez!” Andreas panted into Damon’s neck, grinding up against him, cock smearing against the werewolf’s beard again.

“Mm, I can do that. Do me a favour then, goat-boy. Let me get these jeans off of you; I wanna mark your body, baby. You’re _mine_ tonight, ok? You’re gonna let me take my time, for making me wait all week.” Damon’s hands unbuttoned the man’s jeans as the satyr raised himself slightly off the bed, freeing his balls fully and exposing his legs.

With a few firm tugs the jeans were off, and Damon lowered his face to Andreas’ calves, sniffing them, running his face up the goat’s body. He trailed up the man’s expansive legs, marvelling at the density and the deceptive size of his quads, even under the fur. Sure, satyrs were fluffy goat-men, but they packed on size like almost nobody else. He nuzzled into the man’s furred thighs, breathing deeply. The further up he went the more he smelt musk and sex.

Damon wanted to ride that high forever.

Andreas broke through the wolf’s thoughts of worship, however, as he sat up and spoke.

“Can you grab that bottle over there? Fill it from the keg for me. Second bottle if you wanted one. Or, we can find a way to share just the one, I’m sure.” Andreas smirked.

Damon complied, leaving the bed, if only because he knew it would only enhance his worship in the end. The familiar, boozy smell from the keg filled the air, and it simply reminded Damon he _really_ needed to fuck Dre properly soon, keep things smelling like **them**.

_He doesn’t smell like me. Need to claim him. Bite him, scent him, mark him, breed him. **My** satyr; my love…_

“You still smell wrong, Dre. Like _you_ , but not _me_ too. Gotta fix that. You can have this when you’ve earned it back.” the wolfman smirked, lightly shaking the bottle. He took a long swig accompanied by a warm noise of approval, and then unbuttoned his own jeans, pulling them off and leaving them where they fell.

His cock tented his underwear, already slick and dampening the fabric. He straddled back onto the bed, climbing up on top of the satyr, resting his thighs to the sides of the man’s head, just above his massive shoulders. He threaded his fingers through the satyr’s hair again, before his fingers trailed down over the front of his horns and to the side of his love’s face.

“Open, sweetheart.” he ordered, and the goat blushed, opening his mouth.

Damon slowly turned the bottle, spilling the liquid down the neck of the bottle and onto his tented underwear. He ran his fingers through the wettest parts, and then moved his fingers towards Andreas’ mouth, drops of booze and pre on his fingers.

The goat welcomed the droplets into his mouth. Nowhere near enough booze on them to really do much of anything yet, but he knew Damon just wanted the act of submission, and he was more than happy to oblige for now. What he did taste however, made him want more. Pre, booze, either worked. He just wanted Damon. He wanted to be as big as he could for his love.

“There you go, dude. Good job…” Damon whispered, pulling his fingers out of the goat’s mouth; Andreas’ eyes pleaded and made his heart start to sing again. Damon took another swig from the bottle, and his body flushed. It was a familiar, rippling, heat, and it made his muscles twitch; almost like rut, like the feelings he became all too familiar with since the first time with his pillow, but not quite. Not as primal, but he felt more powerful. He grinned, and ran his fingers down his lover’s cheeks as his forearms swelled and the hair became denser.

“Move down, goat-boy. Follow me. Wanna make you earn this, Dre.” He said lowly, taking another sip from the bottle and winking. He slowly slid back down Andreas’ chest, and worked his way to the bottom of the bed, before he quickly ditched the underwear as well, tossing it to the other side of the bed. He laid splayed out on his back, hands behind his head. Andreas matched his changes, and kissed Damon’s thighs while settling between the werewolf’s legs, to lay on his stomach instead; his boyfriend’s cock throbbing near his face.

The werewolf’s fuzzy balls twitched near his face, and he moved to kiss them lightly. The wolf gasped and squirmed as Andreas extended his tongue, and licked up from his balls and onto his shaft, planting a kiss on the werewolf’s thick and leaking cock, foreskin partially retracted, purple head glistening wetly.

“F-Fuck, ‘Dre!” Damon grunted, his hips bucking up against the satyr’s face. They’d barely even started, and his body was acting like he’d never been touched. Andreas just had that effect on him, as embarrassing as it was. The satyr grinned and slowly sank the wolf’s dick into his mouth, suckling as he went. Damon’s pre flowed onto his tongue, and Andreas knew it’d take a second for him to adjust to the girth, pausing for a moment, cock half in his mouth.

“Ah… Y-Yeah, don’t stop. Suck it. Fuck, baby...” Damon groaned, gripping his hands shut behind his head in an effort to not immediately grab his boyfriend’s horns and fuck the goat’s warm throat; gagging or choking be damned. He had to let him adjust though. He wanted this to be good for them both; It’d just take a minute.

The satyr eventually worked more of the twitching cock down his throat, gagging and choking a little as he went further down anyway, and the man above him growled low in his throat, proud to hear the noises.

Damon opted for pouring booze slowly in his mouth to give himself something to focus on; it wasn’t working as well as he wanted. His cock flushed and he knew it was thickening. He wasn’t just slowly filling his knot, the booze was making his whole cock grow, as much as it filled his biceps, his thickening quads, his engorged trap muscles, his rippling, widening back.

Jolts of heat surged across his entire body as he felt himself growing bigger, broader, and he shuddered. The fire was hottest in his balls, and it boiled up into his dick, and he hissed and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t you dare stop, ‘Dre. _Gonna fuck your throat to start, then I’ll see what pretty noises I can draw out of you on my **knot** , handsome... I’m gonna **ruin** you, sweetheart._” He snarled, his voice deepening.

The satyr moaned against his cock and forced himself down further, almost taking his cock to the base; he was just above knot level now, and it thickened against his lips. The vibrations from Andreas’ humming only made Damon feel wilder, more eager. He tilted the bottle back further and the liquid flowed into his mouth, the man guzzling like he was possessed.

He shuddered and relished in the heat and thrumming of electricity as it buzzed through him, more furiously this time, before stopping as he felt his arms being pushed out and away from his body as they packed on more meat than he’d ever had on them before. His traps spasmed slightly and flared out as they packed on dense, thick size as well, flowing onto his mountainous shoulders that connected his brutish arms to the rest of his body.

He flexed his arms, feeling his triceps tighten and expand far more than from any gym pump. His forearms were catching up, starting to look big enough to dwarf the size of his _entire_ arm, pre-Pack. Whether it was more of a show he was putting on for Andreas or _himself,_ considering how far he’d come, he wasn’t sure. Damon ran his tongue over his engorged bicep peak as he raised and flexed, and with a grunt he felt the density of the muscle under the skin; plump, firm, and feeling like a melon ripe to bursting.

His quads tightened and exploded outwards with size without his doing, and a voice in the back of his head demanded he flip up and pin his goat’s head between them, and destroy him. Each of the insanely defined, dense, teardrop shaped muscles were more than thick and meaty enough to dwarf Andreas’ own head.

_Pin him, crush him, knot him, make him **scream** for you. Make them **all** hear. **Claimed**. **Mine, mine, mine; my love.**_

Andreas felt Damon’s large hands grab at his horns roughly and he moved his head back into his love’s touch. The grip was tight, and he forced himself to relax. Damon began to slowly coax Andreas’ head upwards, and he heard the satyr whine. He slipped his cock out of the goat’s mouth and stared down at his love’s eyes, holding him just out of reach of his cock.

“What do you want? Say it; out loud.” Damon demanded, not loosening his firm grip for a second.

“You. Want you to fuck my face, so bad, D. You have no idea how bad I’ve missed you, dude. _Please. Let me make you feel good._ ” Andreas mumbled, trying to force his mouth back onto his boyfriend’s dick.

“Needy lil’ goat, huh? Fuck, if I was you, I’d wanna get started on that keg and get big enough for my knot, too, I’m starting to catch up, handsome... But you don’t have much movement right now, huh, baby? Don’t worry, not gonna shove my knot down your throat just yet... Don’t wanna choke you like that, love. Not _tonight_ , at least.” Damon chuckled, and slowly pulled Andreas upwards, and the satyr stuck his tongue out and licked up the wolf’s chest as he was dragged along.

Damon flexed for himself once more as he reached for the back of the satyr’s head, shoving it forward into his broad pit, made even deeper and more muscled by the potent satyr-brew. Andreas bleated softly as he nuzzled into the hair, kissing and licking the man as he was held in place, his own cock leaking copiously against Damon’s stomach and dick, as they were ground between them; an almost involuntary frot session on the needy satyr’s part as the werewolf bucked his hips up and fucked his cock against the goat’s.

The grip loosened slightly but it’s presence persisted and the goat slowly worked his way across to the werewolf’s meaty, engorged pecs, latching onto one of his pierced nipples. Damon sported bars through his nipples, and his love was more than adept as lightly taking them into his mouth and _tugging_ ; just enough to cause the growing werewolf to groan loudly and thrust himself harder against the satyr’s body, running his cock up and over his lover’s own; starting at his pendulous furred balls and up over the ridiculous length that easily dwarfed Damon’s own, even if he did have more girth out of the pair.

Damon bounced his pecs against Andreas’ face as the goat continued worshipping the man’s flexing, densely furred chest, rubbing his face against it and kissing the musculature that continued to ripple, bounce and expand against his head. There wasn’t really much doubt that at this point they were _much_ bigger than Andreas’ own head, and Damon _loved that_. He knew his entire, thick, body was wider than Andreas’ own frame by now.

Damon’s hands moved over to the goat’s back then, coasting down to slap his heavily furred ass, before pulling his arms back up and grabbing roughly at the other man’s back and forcing their mouths together, their bodies humping together wildly, as his body expanded yet _again_ , his broadening frame now _far_ wider than the satyr’s own bulk, his grip possessive and tight as he flexed and pressed the other man into him.

Andreas whined into Damon’s mouth and his hand went downwards, trying to grab at the werewolf’s heavily slicked cock. Damon growled into the kiss and moved his hand back up, barely getting his words out; almost refusing to break their contact to even speak.

“I know what you _want_ , ‘Dre. Tell me what you _are_ , and you can have it, love.” Damon’s voice was deep, husky, and it rumbled in his throat as he slid a hand up, tearing at the goat’s hair and exposing his neck; his lips latched onto the goat’s throat instantly and began working to draw more noise out of his goat; sharp teeth lightly grazing, lips sucking gently, skin being pulled _just so,_ his beard brushing against the goat’s bare skin.

Andreas couldn’t help but moan and bleat loudly then, and he hoped nobody was in the hallway. He was _loud_ when Damon got like this, and he didn’t want to have to live down having Jason or any of the other satyrs hearing; even if he’d play it off with a cocky declaration, a wink and flex; he was all image in the end.

The words came shakily; quickly, from his mouth then, between moans and bleats, and they were like a downpour; he couldn’t make the noises between _stop_.

“Y-Your’s Da- _haymmuh **fuckgod**_ \- Your’s… _Godfuckdon’tsto-hop **please** ”_ he cried out, begging and blushing while his entire body seared itself a bright, warm, red; exposing how needy he was.

He was _definitely_ being too loud now, and Damon rumbled in contentment before moving his head back, smirking cockily and raising an eyebrow. He laid gentle kisses on the top of the trembling satyr’s head. Andreas was malleable putty in the werewolf’s hands and Damon _loved_ it, he _relished_ in it. A darker part of him wished he was doing all of this downstairs, on the floor, in front of all the cocky goat-men and their new friends. Fuck their party; _this_ was better.

Damon tapped at the satyr’s lower back then, and nodded at him, allowing Andreas to slowly slide backdown, gasping as he went before taking the werewolf’s cock into his mouth again. It stuffed his mouth completely, almost too much, and forced his jaw open to an aching degree. He was scared he might pop his joints.

Andreas made a muffled choking sound as he re-adjusted to the massive cock thickening even further in his mouth and his eyes stung. Damon began lazily humping his cock into the satyr’s mouth, and the satyr swirled his tongue over the head on an up-stroke, working the ridge of his foreskin as it drew back up. He slipped his tongue underneath, against the head, and the wolf started to howl before stifling it down into more of a growling rumble, bucking his hips up and grinding all the way into Andreas’ throat and stuffing his knot down the goat’s throat, met with a choking, gurgling noise. His tongue was pushed out of the way and against the furred balls, and he was simply held there, ground into the man’s pubic hair and his jaw screaming at him that it would break as hands snapped down and his horns were held tight; vice grip on a crude set of handlebars.

Damon was gasping and his cock was throbbing harder now, pulsing and jerking in the goat’s mouth, impossibly fat, thickened veins being licked and worshipped as they branched and made paths on the wolf’s cock. Andreas felt the grip on his horns tighten further still; white-knuckled like the wolf was begging himself to hold off, force almost painful; almost like he could crack his horns from the power in his hands, and the cock was pulled free from the satyr’s mouth with a wet squelch and a coughing fit, before the wolf growled at him.

“Flip over. _**Now**._”

Andreas complied, and gasped out as he felt the full weight of Damon against his back, his thick, meaty pecs pressed against his back, lips on his neck, cock grinding against his lower back just to the side of his nubby tail as he humped and smeared the entirety of the goat with viscous precum and saliva.

He felt the wolf’s teeth softly grazing his skin as he worked down the satyr’s back, laying gentle kisses as he went, before stopping and biting the large satyr’s ass; lightly, but enough to draw an unintended bleating from the satyr that made his whole body flush from embarrassment.

“D-Dont, dude, ‘s‘mbarrassing when I do that…” he muttered and then sighed as the wolf moved further down still and softly held the satyr’s twitching, nubbed tail up slightly, giving him easier access to the man’s hole. His tongue lapped out greedily, and he felt the satyr begin to squirm harder as he slowly forced his tongue inside.

He worked his tongue in and out slowly, forcefully, the goat’s bleating becoming louder and his squirming more apparent as he ground and flexed his cock against the bedsheets, leaking and spurting pre into them and against his own furred body, matting from his legs to his chest.

Andreas’ breath caught in his throat as Damon struck _just right_ with his tongue, buried a few inches deep, and he let out a noise that was a mixture of attempted cursing and loud gaspy bleats. This caused Damon to double down on his efforts and he worked harder and faster with his tongue, until the goat was all but moaning and grinding into the sheets and then back against Damon’s thick tongue, panting and desperate; his words had lost any real meaning between the bleats and he simply gave into the noises instead.

Andreas felt himself tightening like a spring, heat forming in his groin, deeper down than just in his cock or balls, and tightening throughout his entire body as he tensed and flexed every muscle, before Damon drew his tongue out and he all but _sobbed_ into the sheets.

Damon kissed his thigh and muttered something he couldn’t register; no doubt reassuring, and he felt the bed shift as the second body left it. Moments passed before the bed shifted again, and Damon was back; re-filled bottle in one hand, and a small tube of lubricant from Andreas’ own desk drawer in the other.

He heard the cap pop before hissing as the cold lubricant hit his ass, then the stream stopped, a few more seconds passed, and the cap was clicked back on. The cold air on his ass was replaced then by a slicked finger, lube apparently tossed elsewhere. Same routine, pushing in slowly and gauging for the right spot; Andreas was already too close, his body thrumming and _alive_ as though he was a wire and Damon was nothing but pure electricity running back and forth inside him. He convulsed and lost all noise as he came, barely managing a choked out gasp. Damon’s single, beckoning finger was slowly worked up to two, then to three, curling towards just the right point, working his prostate expertly. Just barely enough stretch to prepare for the wolf’s cock, but Andreas _knew_ he’d grown bigger than three fingers since he’d first run into the room, even if his hands grew with the rest of him. The werewolf easily eclipsed the satyr at this point in terms of width _and_ height, even with the horns.

Andreas wasn’t sure if he was coming for a second time or if things were starting to chain together; he only knew his cock just _kept spurting_ , and his balls _still_ felt full, and the crashing waves of his orgasm kept churning. He only knew his dick wouldn’t stop bucking and he was grinding and humping back and all his mind could process was how much he wanted _more_ and how his thoughts jumbled together with the words spilling out of his mouth that he couldn’t even _hear_ himself yelling, slowly descending into ragged sobbing declarations as he came for the _third time_ that night.

“ _ **Want you, I need you, fuckmedude, breed me, please bro, please Damon, God, loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou-”**_

He felt Damon withdraw his fingers, and move upwards. The wolf’s thick cock slapped down then and humped against the satyr’s ass, and Damon’s hands snaked underneath him, holding his chest with one arm, pulling him tight against his own pecs, the other hand snaking down to his spent-but-still-needy cock, slick beyond recognition with cum. He gave it a few slow test strokes and the satyr spasmed pathetically, and made a guttural moaning sound as he humped into his wolf’s hand as best he could for how spent he felt. This made the satyr adjust his stance without thought, arching just right to allow for easier entry and Damon slowly nudged the tip of his cock inside.

The werewolf slowly worked his cock in, and the satyr gritted his teeth and focused on breathing as his cock continued to twitch pathetically in Damon’s grip. Damon was against him now, cock bottomed out, barring the knot that was grinding on the satyr’s furred ass, and he simply let the satyr adjust.

Kisses were laid on the back of his neck and his shoulders and Damon whispered to him.

“Shh, baby, you’re doing _so good_ for me. Look at you; _**gorgeous**_ , already shooting like that for me, fuck… How many _times_ was that!?. Jeez, taking me all the way to the edge of my knot too... We’ll get it in, love, just _breathe_. Focus on how you feel. I’m so _proud_ of you, all the time, ‘Dre. _**Love you, love you**_ , **so fuckin’ _much_**...” he cooed and slowly let his fingers glide over Andreas’ chest, curling against his chest hair as he continued to stroke slowly with the other hand, copious amounts of pre continuing to flow out and down his hand, also dripping into the goat’s matted, wet, leg fur.

He moved the hand on the satyr’s cock away and back, using the goat’s own juices to slick his knot up in order to ease the passage.

“You’re all _**mine** , _sweetheart, so _**perfect**_...” was mumbled, barely a whisper, against the satyr’s neck and his mind _sang_ at the praise and ownership.

Andreas pushed back cautiously then, and Damon matched pace and pushed his hips forward, and with a wet pop, after a few bucking attempts, the knot popped inside Andreas, and he felt full to bursting, and like he might scream. It drew his breath out in a ragged choking noise, and Damon softly mumbled sweet things in his ear once more, halting himself and letting the satyr adjust.

Andreas was trembling now, full body shakes, and his cock felt hard like marble again. His ass fucking _hurt_. Damon’s thick knot was applying nothing but pressure against his prostate, and he whimpered and his eyes stung wetly. It felt _good_ and he felt _safe_ , and he was more than full, but it burnt and he needed to _wait_. Damon’s hands rubbed reassuringly over his chest. Andreas couldn’t focus but there were more words in his ear; he wished he could register them. He felt so _safe_ with Damon, though, trusted him even at this size. This he _knew,_ more surely than anything.

Focus was instead applied to his breathing, and Damon was flexing and throbbing inside him, and he could feel the wolf was close and wanted to start. He was patient though, and refused to move an inch until he had signs from his love to begin.

A few moments more, and Damon reached forward, offering the booze-filled bottle in his hand to Andreas, and the satyr re-positioned, leaning up shakily on his knees, back against Damon’s stomach, head on his chest, Damon’s hand holding him up; steady and reassuring on the satyr’s chest. The bottle was tilted ever so slightly and flowed into Andreas’ open mouth, like a waterfall, flowing until it was emptied and tossed on the floor.

He gulped what he could catch down and felt the familiar heat flushing his body, replacing the sting, the burning. He focused on that instead, unbothered as small streams missed his mouth and flowed down his chin. His body was starting to tire, the sheer mental energy he spent on riding out his body’s fluid declarations to Damon leaving him feeling weak and beyond drained.

The heat made his face sting, and his back swelled, arching and thickening. His lats swept slowly outwards, like wings, and his arms were pushed out wider, gaining mass of their own. Damon moved Andreas’ arms up and chuckled softly, as the satyr took the hint and flexed for him, and Damon felt _hungry_ watching his lover’s body shift and change.

The werewolf’s arms wrapped around his love’s chest once more, and he gripped tighter, forearms bulging and veins flaring as they were forced outwards, his grip forced into loosening and making new room; Andreas’ pecs were growing, and his abs filled with dense musculature and pushed outwards, flaring like blocky segments on a brick slab. His midsection was firm and stout as he grew, but not as cut as Damon’s had remained. Feeling the changes under his hands made Damon’s cock throb and his hips bucked spasmodically, grinding against the growing satyr’s ass as he watched.

Kissing the back of Andreas’ neck, Damon gently pushed him down into the sheets again, and bit his own lips hard as he stared at the satyr’s growing arms. He looked brutish as they flexed and unflexed, rhythmically, new blood filling them to bursting, veins engorged and new paths becoming clear as they thickened and became more visible, his hands desperately tugging at the sheets as he grunted out ragged gasps. Damon still waited, as best he could; he felt twitchy, over-eager.

Andreas was moaning and grunting so loudly, as the shifting travelled to his legs. His already impossibly bulky legs flared outwards even more, thickening to be twice as wide as they were before. Damon couldn’t see the skin underneath the fur, but the noises it drew out of his love made certain he knew they were becoming monolithic, and it felt incredible.

His traps flared and grew new bulk as his neck veins protruded and thickened, his entire body was flushed a furious red, blood thrumming in his ears, his heart like a kick-drum.

He trembled and fucked himself back onto Damon’s cock cautiously, and then forwards into the bed, and his own pendulous balls and manhood grew larger still; the head of his cock was all but fucking his own pecs, cock nearly reaching all the way up to graze his own lips, as he flexed his chest tight and then released, rhythmically trapping his dick, leaving it throbbing between the meaty slabs and the bed.

A few seconds more and he started to practically scream out as he unloaded _again;_ impossibly torrential _,_ before wet, grey, fabric was shoved aggressively in his mouth, gagging him; all he could taste was musk and _Damon_.

The werewolf fucked into his body furiously now, sweating above him, shushing him with his earlier discarded underwear. He knew his goat was loud and he’d rather not have the party downstairs worry. Any time for waiting or adjustment was done. Damon wanted to own him and breed him completely now.

His knot felt impossibly sensitive as the tightness of Andreas’ growing body slowly subsided and made room for him; and he fucked deep into Andreas with a few final, powerful thrusts, his leg muscles spasming, and he howled out freely; rest of the party be damned.

“ _Fuck them, **this** is all that matters_.” his thoughts snarled.

His teeth came down on Andreas’ shuddering body then, sinking hard against his shoulder, and he hoped the satyr wasn’t bleeding as he let out a pitiful whimper and flinched.

His instinct was to _mark_ and sometimes he hated how it manifested and he couldn’t entirely suppress it. His knot was locked in place then, and the entire night’s worth of pent up seed flooded Andreas, and he’d never felt prouder to have claimed someone in his entire life. He _loved_ Andreas, and Andreas was **His __** _._ It was clearer in the moments like now than at any other point.

Part of him wished the seed he was pumping into Andreas had an escape, as he knew the satyr’s belly would be full and distended slightly come the time they untied, and he’d receive no end of remarks from his own frat. Another part of him didn’t care and relished the obvious evidence that _this one_ was _**claimed; hands off**_.

His mind was brought out of such shallow thoughts though, as he realised Andreas was mumbling to himself, the fabric taken out of his mouth and his arms splayed above and forward from him. His shoulder bore obvious teeth marks; it seemed he hadn’t been pierced enough to cause real damage, but Damon still winced looking at them.

“...ou’d be such a lazy _asshole_ , dude. Warn a guy; wanted to turn around and _look_ at you when this happened. Now’ve gotta fuckin’ _lay here_ and _wait_. Not fair, dude.” he muttered slowly, body spasming roughly, a sloppy grin painting his face. Damon knew he didn’t care because they were still together, at least. The satyr just wished for a more comfortable position.

“... _Love you though, dickhead…”_ He muttered, and sighed contentedly as they shifted, laying on their sides; his horns making the position not entirely the _best_ , but he was happy.

They laid in silence for a time; listening to the drunken revelry downstairs, mostly cheering and chanted names, the only real noise in the room. Still, the company here was the _best_ and Damon continued rubbing at Andreas’ body, before the knot slowly deflated and with a slick, wet squelch it was tugged roughly free. They both grimaced as Andreas’ legs were slowly coated again.

Damon laughed to himself, wiping the worst of himself down with the discarded underwear; gross as he felt doing so, he knew he wouldn’t be _wearing_ them again anytime soon before he got back home, and gathering the tattered remains of his shirt for Andreas to use for himself.

As Andreas took them, Damon turned and moved to rummage in the pockets of the jacket he left on the chair.

He drew out a leather cord attached to a ring, a simple band of silver metal with wood running through the centre in a thick line; and then drew out a similar copy, sans cord. He moved and gently set them on Andreas’ desk.

“What are you rummaging with now, dude? If it’s anything like, sex related, I’m done, dude. I’m _spent_ , please don’t try and get more outta me.” Andreas laughed shakily, not moving from the bed.

“Nah, it’s... a gift, dude. Wanted to show you _before_ , but then we... I got Turek to help me out. You know how the Orcs make the rings for Pack? Got him to make something for me, special. Dude’s stupid talented, but you’ll want a cord for it, maybe, in case you like, get too _big_ and... It’s not… Don’t, like… read too much into it, but I thought since they _match_ , it might be a nice, like, reminder, I guess… Y’know, if you’re _into_ that kinda thing, or you even _wanted_ it,uh, I know you probably only do the _candles_ and stuff like that for _my_ benefit but...” Damon explained sheepishly, turning the ring on the cord around in his fingers as his words quickly started to circle themselves. He figured he’d have been more confident after everything that happened, but here he was; nervous and stumbling over his words, embarrassed enough to cut sentences short.

“Chill, dude, ok? That’s _really_ fucking cute… You’re _sweet_ , dude. _Secretly_. I won’t tell anyone. Yeah, a reminder. I like that idea… Paying me back for all the free plants, anyway!” was the satyr’s teasing response.

Damon beamed at the acceptance and praise and put his own corded ring back down next to the newly-gifted one, and re-joined Andreas on the bed, happy to enjoy the company for a short time before they moved to clean themselves fully. He was happy; _**proud; home**_. His heart was singing in tandem with his mind.

The party was a good idea in the end; he figured.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by a conversation with a friend, and the ensuing art (link below), about big monster dudes and their schooling and love for partying. Apparently good at curing writer's block, but hopefully it's decent enough as an actual work; haven't written any actual porn in a very long time!
> 
> May be extended into a series of shorter pieces on each fraternity, or it could stay as a single, fuzzy, Porn-With-Minimal-Plot piece, or it may simply be an extension of these two dorks I had fun creating and fleshing out a bit and have other ideas for.
> 
> Link to original art (piece is SFW but associated accounts are NSFW, as mentioned in header notes):
> 
> https://twitter.com/Diicedd/status/1183322129430962179


End file.
